This is Jack
by Bamaman04
Summary: This is about Rapture before the fall and centers around corruption and the decay of the society due to addiction, class inequality, and insanity.  Told through an agent of Fontaine working within the police force.
1. Chapter 1

"I've been guardin' this place since I got here." He said. "I've had to do some pretty horrible things when it got dicey with the smugglers. Things you've asked me to do. Things Sullivan asked me to do. Horrible things. People did wrong by Rapture, I did wrong by them. You know this about me. Know I'm loyal. But when I had to put the screws to someone before, it's always been someone who had it coming. For the greater good, if ya want. This don't seem like one of those times. I know for a fact Sullivan won't like it."

"We came to you first, Mr. Wilson." Andrew Ryan said. The room was filled with wisps of smoke from Ryan's and Cohen's cigarettes. It was the shitty brands that came from Rapture.

"But Sullivan is my boss, sir."

"And I'm Sullivan's boss. Your boss Mr. Wilson." Ryan regarded Cohen then looked back smiling. "We go to Sullivan for a more, permanent, action. Then he goes to you. What we're talking about now, Mr. Wilson, is not the permanence that Mr. Sullivan has been using down in the fisheries. Not what he's been using you for. Rapture is a haven for ideas and opinions. But we cannot flourish in a world that allows slanderous material to be taken as the truth."

He let the words hang in the air. Ryan and Cohen continued looking into him. The former was looking especially deranged tonight. Cohen had been one of the firsts to be allowed into the pool of plasmids when Ryan had taken over Fontaine Futuristics.

The nationalization of the business was already ruffling some feathers. It had been a busy few weeks as ADAM distribution came under the control of Ryan. Judging by the thoroughly spliced look of Cohen, rank had its privileges. The artist had not heeded the warnings of over indulgence and his deformed face was unsettling.

At the moment the artist was staring at a case on the wall.

"Mr. Ryan, if you say it's gotta get done, then its gunna get done." Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry if my place is a little dusty Mr. Cohen. This place is just home, it ain't like the nice places in Olympus Heights."

"Your home is more than welcoming Mr. Wilson." Ryan smiled. Jack hated how secure that made him feel. Cohen was still staring at a case on the wall.

"You a big fan or Mardi Gras, sir?" Jack walked over to the case of masks.

"Mardi Gras…" Cohen was transfixed.

"Uh, yes sir. Fat Tuesday. Every year before Lent we throw a big party down in South Alabama. I'm from Mobile originally, your probably a lil' more acquainted with the celebrations in New Orleans."

"A religious ceremony, Mr. Wilson?" Ryan said grimly.

"Not much Christian values during those parties, sir." Jack shrugged sheepishly. "More just a reason to dress up and put on masks so no one can tell who's raising all the Cain. Sir."

"What do they mean?" Cohen asked dreamily. "What can those beautiful things mean?"

Ryan looked over, obviously amused by the discomfort.

"My family is part of one of the societies sir, kinda like a Krewe down in New Orleans, but a lil more fancy." Jack looked back to Ryan uncomfortably. "We were the Nymphs. Sorta a woodland theme. I wore the rabbit mask there. My father wore the one with the long nose that is supposed to be a bird."

"The last one." Cohen stood up to the case and looked in.

The masks were all white with silver trimmings. Flamboyance in their Mardi Gras glory. The last one had soft silver wings sticking out from the sides. Fake diamonds glittered all over it.

"That last one was my mother's Mr. Cohen." Jack said. "It's the moth."

"Moth…" Cohen stared dreamily into the case; completely unaware that anyone was in the room with him.

"Well, Mr. Ryan is right." Jack said. "Religious symbols shouldn't be held on to. If you want to take the case to help you out Mr. Cohen go right ahead. Just something from my old life, that don't have anything to do with my life in Rapture."

That earned an approving nod and smile by Ryan and an almost orgasmic sound from Cohen. He lifted the case off the wall and started walking towards the door.

"Oh the pageantry for the party. The elegance." Cohen waited as Jack opened the door.

"Lotsa moths gunna be running around this year, sir?"

"Oh no." Cohen looked Jack into the eye for the first time. "Only one can be special enough for the moth. Only, the right one."

And then he was gone. Jack's knees were shaking.

"Very wise, Mr. Wilson." Mr. Ryan. "That is the man of Fort Frolic, a very powerful ally. You seem to please all the right people."

Ryan followed the artist down the hall.

"Just doing what I do best."

Jack went to his uniform.

* * *

"How long have these threats been coming to you, Mrs. Culpepper?"

"Ms. Culpepper, Officer Wilson." Culpepper said. "And ever since I started singing out against Ryan. Everyone has been sending me these horrible letters."

"It's these times." Jack held the letters in his hands. A crude drawing of Culpepper being sodomized in front of him. "People are a little angry and scared. But luckily most aren't talented artists."

He held up the picture smiling. She tried to suppress a laugh, but failed.

"Look, Ms. Culpepper. The people who write letters like this are usually not gunna act on anything." He laid the papers down on the table and walked around to her. "The dangerous ones won't tell you they're coming."

"I know nothing is going to happen. These people are cowards." She took out a cigarette and put it in her mouth. It was a smuggled brand. She was arrogant. "I know nothing is going to happen."

Jack held his hand out and snapped his fingers producing a small flame.

"Oh, somethin' gunna happen." Jack said. She was leaning in to light her cigarette and looked up at him suddenly. "I'm the warning. You need to stop going down this path, ma'am. Next time it won't just be me that comes to visit you. I won't be wearing this badge. I won't be wearing this uniform. I'll come into this room and cut your throat and leave you on the floor."

She was wide eyed and the cigarette dangled for a moment on in her fingers before she dropped it. If she were smart she would listen to the fear. Listen to survival instincts kicking in her brain and just go back to being another Rapture citizen. But then she scowled. She wasn't smart.

"Ryan's dog!"

His free hand came around an open handed slapped her. She fell to the ground her hand to her red face. Blood started to drip out of her nose on to the carpet. She looked to the ground and crawled up, like a frightened animal.

"These are illegal." Jack picked up her purse and pulled out cigarettes. "But I'll just let you off with a warning. Have a nice night, ma'am."

He walked towards the door and opened it.

"Why would you work for this mad man? Don't you see what it is he is doing? He's kidnapping children! And you run around cleaning up his messes. You and that sadist in Frolic. What is it that you think you're doing?"

"Just doing what I do best."

He left her there on the floor.

* * *

Ever since the death of Fontaine, the poor houses had started to fall apart.

Not coincidentally this was where all the really strong plasmids had gone. All the good stuff before the nationalization under Ryan. They were all horribly disfigured from the splicing and were all retched in the new poverty brought on by the fall of their benefactor.

The meek and the poor all fighting for resources. People were murdered nightly for food and clothing. Most were murdered for ADAM, that sweet source of power. More valuable than gold and oil had ever been. These people were ready to slit throats and worse for it.

They were just about ready to be used.

He passed the place walking along the train tracks. One of the carts was abandoned beside them, turned over after being discarded. A lot of things were discarded down here.

Jack came up to the cart and opened the door. Inside was a blonde Irishman. Along the walls were suits, wigs, and assorted cosmetics. The Irishman sat in front of a mirror.

"How goes it, boy-o?"

"You're getting good at that." Jack took a seat next to the Irishman as the former continued to apply some sort of powder to his face. "It's confondin'."

"It's that uniform that's unsettling, Jackie-boy." The Irishman mouth curled into a sick grin, still looking at the mirror.

"I thought you liked this get up." Jack said. "Sure as hell made you a lot of money. It's also got me in the inner circle with Ryan and Cohen. The good doctor will be a fan soon, when I shoo of some nosey paparazzi looking into his, unique, form of surgery."

The Irishman had stopped. He always stayed perfectly still when in thought. Like a cat planning its fatal strike. There was always something predatory about this man.

"Hope your not falling in too deep with the other side, Jackie-boy."

"Nah. I've always been a Fontaine man." Jack looked down at his hands. "Couldn't stop now even I wanted to."

"Oh I know, boy-o." The young Irishman looked back at him. "You might be the only thing old Fontaine might have considered a friend. Dangerous position."

"Fontaine?" Jack looked thoughtful. "Didn't I kill that old coot?"

The Irishman laughed and looked back to the mirror, continuing to concoct the image of youth and virility.

"Getting in with Cohen is good. It will be nice knowing what that fruit is up to. But until you get in with the doctor we're going to have a blind spot. We need to know everything that Ryan and his cronies are up to for when we strike."

"If Ryan keeps nabbin' people's kids off the streets, we prolly won't have to do much of anythin'." Jack said. "He lacks the subtlety you showed in getting the girls and the supplies."

"Let me worry about all that, Jackie-boy. I'll control the masses. Does the gook still think you betrayed me?"

"Suchong is one dumb genius."

"Just like I like em'. You keep doing what you're doing with the doctor and we'll run this place."

"Doing what I do best."

The Irishman stopped and just stared in the mirror.

"And what would that be, Jackie-boy?"

Jack pulled out one of the cigarettes and lit it with his hand.

"Making friends with the devil."

* * *

"So this will be your place."

Jack stood with Tenenbaum amongst the rows of bunk beds. The room was dank and the metal had started to rust on the beds with no mattress.

"How did you find this place?" Tenenbaum asked. She looked around the room with her brows furrowed.

"This was for construction workers when Rapture was being built." Jack walked towards the back corner with the German in tow. "Only people who know about it other than me are dead accept for the Scottish engineer, who pretty much knows everythin' there is to know about Rapture. Too bad for him Ryan got word of his insubordinate rantin.' Thinks he's gunna start up a rebellion right under Ryan's nose. Ryan wants me to put him up for the night tomorrow."

"Put him up?"

"Like a ten point buck." Jack walked into the office and held out his hands open. "This will be your place. I came here often to get diving suits for smuggling crates off the ocean floor and for when y'all were using them for study. You can keep track of a the girls through that window and pretty much have a decent office space to yourself in here if the brats get too loud or anything."

"I will need my own place to do work, but I can not ignore the little ones anymore." Tenenbaum crossed an arm under her breasts and held the other hands thumb in between her teeth.

"Just foolin' Doc." Jack walked over to the window and put both of his thumbs on either side of belt where they were buckled at the zipper. "We should mark the occasion. This is gunna be the first genuine act of kindness I've done since I came to Rapture. If it wasn't for all the horrible shit I've been doing the past years I might feel good about myself."

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself." Tenenbaum moved behind him. She reached out a hand to touch his back but pulled it back before actually touching him.

"Just can't get past the monster side of me?"

"You can change your ways. Like you said this is an act of charity, no?" Tenenbaum gestured with her hands as Jack shook his head and looked towards a mirror on the wall. "You can stop doing work for both sides. Live for yourself. Do good in this place."

"The shit I pulled Doc, there ain't no making up for it."

"I've been turning little ones into monsters. Putting vile slugs inside them for scientific study. Watching their eyes turn yellow and skin grow cold and pale. If I can start changing my deeds, maybe you?"

"That sounds nice, doc." Jack looked in the mirror at the right side of his face. Smiling at his still handsome face. Then he turned to the left and ran a finger along the stitches where his cheek had to be sown back together after splicing caused his mouth to elongate to his cheek. "Naw. I am truly in the shit, Doc. Ain't no turning back now. This path I'm on, got only one way. Turning around gunna get me killed. Stopping is gunna get me killed. Gotta keep moving forward, farther down the hole till that kills me too."

"But you still live this meager life. You are accepting money from Fontaine and Ryan but still live the life of a broke police officer. If you are not doing this for the money, why did you ever get on this path in the first place?'

"That's a helluva question, Doc." Jack said with his horrific smile. "Guess the devil is good at making friends too."


	2. Chapter 2

Jack looked through the glass in the bubble that was his helmet. Through the glass he looked between the bars. From between the bars he saw the ocean floor. It took some getting used to, but he could now see clearly even with the helmet on. At the southeastern edge of rapture was a large canyon. A steep drop of three fourths of a mile. Thirty feet from the pressure lock to a deep fall into the abyss. From Rapture flowed lines past this ravine.

"What are those connected to again?" Marks asked.

"Some sort of buoy." Jack said. They could hear each other through speakers in the helmets. Two men standing on the ocean floor.

"What keeps em' from rising?" Marks turned his face plate towards Jack. A worthless gesture, neither could see the others face only dull glass.

"You pick how much air you put in it." Jack said gesturing towards the dark. "You put the right amount of air in, and it doesn't go all the way up. Just part of the ways."

"Damn, Jack." Marks said. "That's amazing."

"Marks, you stupid shit, you live on the bottom of the ocean floor." Jack shook his head. The helmet didn't move. "The fact that we ain't dead is amazing."

He had to lean back to look up. Way back, so that his backside was perpendicular with the floor. The lights from the city made it impossible to see that far up. Jack wondered.

"So what made you turn? You've been on the fisheries port for a long time now." Marks said. "You've brought in at least ten cases of smuggling."

"Nine of which ended in execution." Jack said.

"Execution? We do not have Capital Punishment in Rapture!"

"Capital Punishment? That's a fancy way of putting it." Jack said. He smiled. "Jesus, it's cold. Let's just put it this way. Ryan encourages Warden Weir to put a lil' hurt on the people me and Sullivan send his way. Try and get deeper in whatever goin' on down here. You know how many of em' cracked?"

Marks was probably shaking his head.

"None, Marks. Not a damn one." Jacks straightened up and took a step forward. He thought he saw something in the darkness. "Something down here running around Fontaine's little palace is twice as scary as that sadist in Persephone."

"Sadist?"

"It means cruel, torturing sonuvabitch."

"Torture? There is no torture in Rapture."

Jack saw a marlin make a quick turn in the distance. It's side reflecting the lights of rapture. Jack imagined it's large black eye scanning across what it saw. He wondered if the fish was curious or just scared. It turned quickly and swam back into the darkness. Jack didn't blame it.

"Just cause we're at the bottom of the sea don't make no difference." Jack said. "People are people. Things are the same as they are at home."

"But, Rapture is our home Jack." Marks said. Jack closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He walked to edge of the ravine and looked down. Exhale deeply. Five feet below where he stood was pure darkness. Jack opened his eyes and stared at the line where light was swallowed then looked down into the nothing.

"Battle not with monsters." He whispered. "Les you become one. If you look into the abyss the abyss looks into you."

"Jack I couldn't quite hear you." Marks said.

"Just butcherin' some philosophy Marks." Jack looked out into the darkness and this time saw the familiar bubble on the line. It was still a long ways off. He looked back into the nothing. "You see Marks, what I mean is people are gunna be people. Ryan, the communists, and every other revolutionary, never take into account the nature of humans. How we're gunna act regardless of where we're at and what government we're under. Ideals and dreams are nice, but people are gunna be corrupt.

"That's the advantage of growin up poor white trash. You pretty much figure out early on that there's people that are on the bad end of the stick and people on the good end. And the people on the good end are gunna wanna stay there."

"What is that thing?" Marks said. Jack stared for a moment longer than looked up. The bubble was being pulled along by two of the three men.

"It's a metal air bubble that shoots along the line with the fisherman. They hang on for dear life and attach the fishing line to the bubble, then pull it all back in." Jack said. He grabbed his air hose in his right hand and walked back towards Rapture.

"Those aren't fish." Marks said.

"What do you think we're doing out here?" Jack said.

They both waited patiently. The men worked with percission. Bring down the nets with the boxes. Dropped by various boats of various decents. Brought in by Irish, Chinese, Poles. All brought into Rapture because rapture made cigarettes smelled awful and Rapture booze tasted like shit.

"What's in the boxes?" Marks said.

"You're not supposed to ask." Jack said.

The fisherman set about unhooking the bubble and pulling down the long nets filled with cargo dropped from above. The workers pulled in all the boxes in the nets. First went in was the air bubble with contraband. Then the fisherman edged in around the haul.

"If they're doing all the work why are we out here?" Marks said.

"You have to have certified clearance directly from Ryan to work any of the transports to the surface." Jack said, gesturing to the blackness. "And any access to the ocean deep. As Rapture Poh-leese we got that clearance."

Jack pulled down on the outside switch and lock with the fishermen in it drained of water and depressurized. After it was empty a whole team of men lifted the air bubble and the contraband out of the portal. It took less than five minutes for the illegal contents to be moved into hiding by pure man power.

"I hope they hurry up." Marks said. "I'm so cold."

"That's why the whole kit and kaboodle has to take under forty minutes." Jack said. "Otherwise we'd get sick from the cold and pass out."

The pressure lock filled with water again and the outside gate opened. The two men walked in. At the glass was a man with a pencil thin mustache. Behind him were the three fisherman who had ridden the bubble.

"Mr. Fontaine?" Marks said.

"Marks meet our benefactor." Jack said. "Fontaine, can the boys in there hear us?"

Several of the loading workers and other fisherman crowded behind Fontaine and the others behind the glass.

"It's very nice to meet you sir." Marks said, holding his arms out. "I'll come out and meet the whole group once I get this damn suit off."

Marks laughed sheepishly.

"Gentleman." Jack said. "This is why you don't talk to Ryan."

Marks wanted to turn to look back at Jack. Before he could Jack had removed an under water welder and sliced through Marks' breathing hose. The part still attached to Rapture shot into the wall. Spewing bubbles and air.

Marks view finder was still visible to those inside. It immediately filled with a red liquid. The suit's chest and arms collapsed as the pressure of the sea floor crushed bone and muscle. Marks was turned to paste. He fell to the floor

"Why don't you," Fontaine said, "take out the trash."

Then Jack grabbed the crumpled can that used to be a man and started walking back out to the Ravine. The hose spewed out blood and body tissue as he dragged Marks corpse to the edge. He couldn't see the faces of his co-conspirators back in Rapture. But he could guess.

He dropped Marks over the side and the mans body sank in to the darkness.

Jack stared down and for the slightest moment was envious.

….

"You did that on the word of this brute!" The German lady was pissed. She was talking to Fontaine in a tone that not many people could talk to him in. "How do you know that man was an informant? What makes you trust this man with another persons life?"

"Not to be a doubter, Farnk," Jack said while leaning against an operating table, "but why does this woman get to see my face?"

"Because she's in deep, Jackie-boy. Cause she's in deep." Frank smiled. The German lady looked back towards Jack with a harsh look of contempt. "This is Jack. Jack, this is Ms. Tenebaum."

"Oh I know Ms. Rapture's Best and Brightest." Jack lied.

"Brigid, I trust his word because Jackie-boy has been on since day one." Fontaine said. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and matches when the tobacco was in his mouth. "He's also got a penchant for getting Cubans so we tend to like him around here."

"I saw nothing wrong with that man." Tenenbaum said.

"Trust me, he was Ryan's man." Jack said. Tenenbaum looked doubtful and angry. "Pretty much anyone willing to wear the shield is a true believer, but there's a few of us that don't think everything is so peachy. You have a conversation with Marks and you could hear it. He looked at all this metal and he looked out into that ocean and he really thought this was home."

Jack looked back into the hot eyes and smiled.

"Kinda like you."

Tenenbaum turned her back on them both and walked to a window that had a view of the endless black. Fontaine smiled and puffed his cigarette.

"I'm gunna need you two kids to play it real nice here soon." Fontaine said looking to Tenenbaum's back then Jack. "We're gunna need some real protection from Ryan's goons once this operation gets underway, Jackie-boy. Someone to keep other Rapture elites from coming after the golden egg."

"Well the next one they send they'll want to be loyal." Jack said. Running his hand through his hair. "Someone with a bit of a rough streak. Someone trashy. Cause they know there's inside help and the only way to get inside is to send someone that is as pathetic as the boys doin the fishing but smart enough not to get killed."

Fontaine snorted still smiling.

"Kinda like you."

"Kinda like me."

Tenenbaum looked back towards Jack. Her face was a cold slab of neutrality and indifference. Jack held his hands up in front of him.

"So what do y'all got that's so special?"

"Jackie-boy, we got a winner. A real winner."


	3. Chapter 3

Jack held the box of cigarette out in front of him to study the side of it. The label: a portrait of Andrew Ryan smoking a Rapture Products logo.

"Lincoln, Nebraska." The younger officer said.

"These are shit." Jack said pulling a cigarette out and lighting it in his mouth. He exhaled and put the box in his pocket, looking out over the railing in the fisheries. "You know what the good part bout being from the south Alabama? Means guys like Ryan and Fontaine don't know nothin' about where you're coming from. They think you come from some piece of shit swamp that ain't got nothin' to offer the higher beings that run this piece of rust. Probably the same for Nebraska."

He scanned all the activity involved in the loading of the catch, the gutting of the fish. He watched a man skillfully handle a long silver fish that Jack had never seen fishing the Gulf. The fish had been fast and powerful mere hours before. Now it was helpless as it was held down and cut apart. Inside Rapture.

"So that's where you're from?" The younger man said. His shield read Howard. "Alabama?"

"Look, Howard." Jack said still searching the shuffling fishermen below. "You're taking over a position I've held for a bit of awhile. Now, I don't want you to go getting yourself hung in a prison cell for treason, cause I'm the man who put you where you're at now. And if you go and get caught, then I'm gunna get strung up with you."

"Don't worry, sir." Howard said. "I won't let them know I'm working with the smugglers. I can keep a secret, sir. Especially ones that end up with me getting executed."

Jack's eyes darted to a man who had apparently lost his balance. Quickly the man righted himself and stood up right laughing as other fisherman patted him on the back. Made jokes. A slick spot made him momentarily lose his balance.

"Nope." Jack said. "I ain't worried about you being dumb enough to trust Rapture's finest if you went over to the other side. I hate to be the one to break this to ya Howard, but you've passed the point of being completely fucked. You are now part of the treasonous activity of bringing surface goods into Rapture. The fact that you're an officer of the Law in Rapture gives you the ability to facilitate such illegal activities. That's fancy for evil son of a bitch. It also means that if you are caught you will receive the full wrath of a betrayed Rapture and Ryan. Don't that just sound nice?"

Jack finally looked over to the young man. A tall barrel chested blonde with the short hair associated with men of authority. At the moment the big man was shuddering.

"I guess that means you've seen the prison?" Jack laughed and looked back to the workers. "I trust that you'll get along in my old spot. For awhile at least. But sooner or later you're gunna have to get good at lying. You see, the reason I picked you is cause you didn't come here to be a cop. You wanted to be somebody's hero. And they told you that you could be. But now you're standing next to me. Wearing that uniform. And now you know. We're livin' in one big fat lie at the bottom of the damn ocean. And sooner than you want to, you're gunna have to start learnin' to lie about loving this place."

"But that's why I turned for you in the first place." Howard said standing next to the rail looking at Jack. "Because I hate this place. Because it's a mistake. It's a lie. You told me it is. I always knew it really. How can I pretend to love this?"

"Look you may be the dumb Nebraskan who plays football to them, but don't play the feeble mind with me Princeton." Jack said. He flicked the remainder of his cigarette to the ground below. "You may be from hay seeds. But I know about that big brain of yours. Too bad none of the higher ups here take ex-sports stars seriously. Even fancy college boys."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Look." Jack finally faced the man eye to eye. "You're taking my job cause you're basically me. You've come from shit but you still got smarts. Your gunna figure it out. My advice? Only way I've been able to keep up with this is practice. Lying takes practice. You need to lie all the time. To everybody. But not big lies, save that for your new job. But just make up things about yourself. Tell a girl you're from Oklahoma. Make up a hobby you've never had. Lie about who your parents were and what they did. In this life you want to give out as little truth about yourself as possible, but still give out lots of information. Always have that one thing about yourself that people think they know but don't. In a world of lies you've gotta have as much bull shit as possible to keep yourself from getting killed. Because these people gotta believe you're risking your life and bringing in scumb for the your home that most assuredly ain't a pile of metal shit on the ocean floor."

"What about a wife or a girlfriend? People close to me?"

Movement down below. Jack's head snapped back to the dock. A man stumbling into the wall. His back hunched over with his hand over his mouth. A lurch. Another one. A fellow fisher comes over and puts a hand on his back. The dry heaving fellow holds a hand to reassure. Spits a mess out on to the floor.

"Bingo." Jack said. "People close to you? That ain't happenin."

"Not even a girlfriend?"

Jack moved swiftly to the stairs and descended with Howard on his heels. As he got closer to the ground his face changed into stone seriousness. His right hand now had his baton in it. Soon he was behind his prey. He looked back at Howard smiling.

"There's plenty of whores in Rapture."

…..

"This ain't tah way to tah hole?" The drunk man leaned heavily against the Nebraskan to stay up right. "I ain't taht drunk. And even ifta I was. Drink tain't illegal."

Jack had a fistful of the man's shirt dragging the fisherman behind him.

"You're working at the air locks that lead to an ocean that could flood or freeze the entire fisheries." Jack led him down the darkly lit hall. "And you're gunna argue about the legality of gettin' tipsy while working? Shit, son. My daddy ran shine and the bothers even me."

"Drunk mick." Howard popped the back of the drunk's face with his hand.

"I believe the gentleman is Scottish Officer Howard."

"What's your point?"

Jack laughed as he opened the door he'd been looking for.

"Guess your right." Jack led the man into the room where Bridgette Tenenbaum stood before a table of assorted syringes. Behind her was a table that had straps on the side for the arms and legs.

"What kind of hole is tis?" The drunk was released. He whipped around and jabbed a finger in the Nebraskan's face. "And you. I lost terty dolars on taht woman's knee o yours! Your American rugby is gob shite!"

Jack walked over next to Tenenbaum and smiled at her. She looked at him in agitation then returned to her tools..

"Officer Howard."

"Yes, sir?"

"If you would."

"Gladly."

The drunk opened his mouth to say something but was silenced as Howard's right fist caught him flush with a haymaker. The man crumpled to the floor. His eyes barely open at the bottom and his legs twitching.

"What took you so long?" Tenenbaum said pulling up a syringe filled with a murky red liquid.

"Can't just nab anybody." Jack leaned back on the table and crossed his arms. "Good thing about the docks is you can always count on a few drunks. Howard put our guest on the table and strap him down."

"Damn. He's heavier than he looks." The Nebraskan labored with the limp man and worked him into position with the straps. Once on his back the man started to snore through his nostrils.

"This is pretty evil." Jack said pulling out a cigarette. "Even for us."

"Do not smoke that here." Tenenbaum pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it in the corner. She set the syringe on the man's stomach. "If you had been in the camps you would not think so."

"I'd never left America until Korea." Jack said. "What about you Howard?"

"Too young for both wars. Is that normal?"

"Is what normal?" Tenenbaum started pushing her fingers down on the side of the man throat. Pulling back his eye lids.

"The snoring."

"For a concussion this is normal. Stand back you two."

"You and the zipper head figure this out yet?" Jack walked to the corner and picked up his cigarette.

"That is what we are here to see." Tenenbaum pulled back the man's sleeve and wiped an area with a damp cloth. After sanitizing she brought the needle to his arm and punctured him. She closed her eyes. Something unintelligible whispered out of her mouth then she opened her eyes and plunged the murky red liquid into the man.

"What is that stuff?" Howard asked.

"Officer Howard." Jack said. "Get back."

All three people backed away from the snoring man and waited. His chest rose and fell. His right leg twitched occasionally. They waited and watched for ten minutes.

"Is this supposed…?" Howard asked.

"Silence!" Tenenbaum said.

They waited another ten minutes. The man continued breathing normally.

"Well at least he didn't die this time." Jack put the cigarette behind his ear. "Maybe that's a good sign?"

Tenenbaum glared over at Jack in his corner and looked ready to say something nasty. Then the snoring stopped. Her head shot over to the man.

"Up." Jack said shook his head. "Spoke too soon. But at least this one was quiet about…"

The drunk's chest shot up off the table as he pushed his body upwards by his elbows and he screamed wide eyed at the ceiling. He jerked violently at every strap. Convulsing and howling.

The three tried to push themselves into the wall.

The man's back came back to the table and he looked down at his hand clawing at itself. The skin on his forearm blushing a light pink, then a full red.

"Arm! Arm! Arm!" The man screamed over and over. His fingers started twitching.

Jack pulled his gun out of his holster and pointed it at the top of the man's head.

"Nein!" Tenenbaum grabbed his arm and looked into Jack's eyes. They looked into each others shocked and scared faces for four heart beats. Each breathing deeply. Then they looked back to the man who was now shaking his head from left to right and frothing.

Howard was on the ground in the corner. His head to his knees and his hand on top of his head.

The man stopped moving and looked back to the arm and was still. He stopped yelling. Everything in the room seemed as if it was in a snapshot. A living photo. Each person as motionless as death.

Two of the man's fingers touched and sparks shot out his fingernails squirting blood onto the floor. Both finger ignited in flame and in turn ignited his whole hand. Than forearm. The man went back to screaming non ]sense. At first the fire seemed content at the forearm.

Then is started spreading. A smokeless fire the spread the rancid smell of burning flesh throughout the room.

His upper arm and chest. Then his neck and belly. The head was engulfed silencing the man after a few horrific moments. Then the legs.

The body burned fast. Too fast.

Inside ten minutes of burning there was nothing left but ash and a full human skelaton. And a complete forearm with red skin completely unharmed.

"Mein gott." Tenenbaum said. Somehow she had ended up leaning heavily into Jacks chest. His arms pressing her head against him. They released without looking at each other as she walked over to inspect the arm.

"The smell." Howard said. He was starting to get up. His eyes were puffy and red. "Dear god the smell. What a failure. What a disaster. What horror."

"Failure? What failure?" Tenenbaum looked at the hand wide eyed wanting to touch it and afraid to touch it at the same time. "I gave a man the ability to create fire from his hand with nothing. That was miracle!"

Jack rubbed his face down from his forehead.

"Well that's the thing about miracles, ain't it?" Jack interlocked his fingers on the back of his neck. "If you think about it they're all scary as hell. How you doing Howard?"

"I just watched a man burn to death sir." Howard looked to the ground. He looked back to Jack.

"Well I think we'll call that a day, Officer Howard." Jack said closing his eyes and leaning his head back to the ceiling. "Battle not with monsters."

"Was your father really a bootlegger sir?"

"Hay-ell, no."

When his face came back and he opened his eyes Tenenbaum was looking at him intently. Jacks face was just tired. For a beat they stayed that way. Then he grinned.

"And you told me not to smoke."

Tenenbaum smiled back then looked back to the arm.


	4. Chapter 4

"Battle not with monsters." Jack said.

He was sitting in Sullivan's office leaned over with his face in his hands. His face had been in his hands since thirty two seconds in the room. On every wall was a board and on every board were clippings and pictures with notes attached to them.

Each board had faces from the fisheries and from Fort Frolic. Every face on the board was instantly familiar. The wall was meticulous. Each board held a certain theme that was categorized, then chronologically ordered with further notes where needed.

"The man knows what he's doing." Jack said under his breath.

A board to his right held faces with pictures of bodies next to it. The board next to that held faces with notes under a heading labeled: MISSING.

It was the body count board. The "Before and After" board.

Jack had given each board a few seconds worth of his consideration. Except for these two boards. These boards had not been before his eyes for over a half of a second before he put his face in his hands.

"This is the work of a determined man." Jack barely whispered. "This is the work of a crusader. A true believer in rapture. Jay-sis. I'mma dead man."

There was a cascade of footsteps outside in the larger open area of Rapture Security. Jack was still able to shoot up three seconds before Sullivan's hand touched the doorknob. He never looked back as the man entered the room and took a seat in front of him. Sullivan's mustachioed face was buried in another file.

"Good morning, Officer." Sullivan said.

"Good morning, Sir."

"Brought us in a couple of high ranking thugs yesterday." Sullivan looked up briefly smiling. "Mr. Ryan himself has heard your name, my boy."

"Really, sir," Jack said, "Mr. Ryan don't need to hear my name. Me and the boys did it as a, watcha call, a collaboration. Howard is fine officer, sir, and Dean has never proven to be nothing but one of Rapture's finest. He's a helluva officer sir."

"Yes, but you're the one on the inside aren't you?" Sullivan's smile widened then he looked down to his papers again. "Mr. Howard has surely out performed the burden of his brawn and Mr. Dean has overcome the handicap of his race, but it's you, my boy, you who have dug in deep."

"Thank you sir."

Sullivan sat reading the papers. He leaned back to cross a leg over the other. For forty-three seconds he studied them as Jack sat silently.

"Don't think I don't know what rough work it is mind you. I know the fisheries and Frolic can be filled with filth and atrocity. It can't sit well on a man. But I have to call into question your inability to reach past, shall we say, middle management."

Sullivan was flipping a paper up now. His face nodding down then up as he studied a picture. Two drops of sweat traveled from Jack's scalp to the bridge of his nose within four seconds.

Sullivan kept his office uncomfortably hot. He also positioned his guest's chairs at their lowest setting and his chair at it's highest. Sullivan's desk sat on stacked books. He was always above. An officer, criminal, or any man had to look up to him. It was like looking up to a god, not knowing which emotion would rain down from above.

Sullivan's face came up from the papers. He said nothing.

"At first I thought these hacks, excuse me sir, these people of lesser standing, would be like sheep, ya know." Jack held out his hand. Sullivan just looked at him. "I thought I'd just haveta put on a some wool and they'd sneak me right on in to the top. But these sheep ain't dumb sir. They're damn well organized. And if one ain't saying bah the right way, then the rest know in a hurry. All my informants end up dead, but my cover ain't been blown. You don't get a chance to talk in the fisheries, sir. And if you do talk about anybody, to us or to them, it ain't pretty. Rats ain't appreciated on either sides, sir. Your liable to get your head cut off."

"Like Mr. Weldin."

"Yes sir."

"You know why I can look at this photo, officer?"

Sullivan held out the folder, which showed a man's severed head on a pike at the entrance to the fisheries. Jack swallowed his own spit.

"You know why I can look at all of these vile and retched pictures?"

Sullivan got up and walked to the boards. The "Before and After" boards. He stood before the pictures and Jack was forced to follow his form in their direction. Sullivan stood before a menagerie of faces and corpses. Faces then last known places.

Jack swallowed bile.

"I can look at these pictures because I know, I know my dear boy, that people like you and me will find the people responsible. I know that justice will prevail. I know that Rapture is pure and impurities will be sought out and eliminated."

Jack didn't say anything. Sullivan never looked away from the board.

"There are to be cameras installed in the Fisheries."

"Cameras sir?"

"Cameras in every corner of that smugglers den."

"Isn't that, what you would call, messing with peoples privacy."?

"It's only in the Fisheries, my boy, and Mr. Ryan has assured me that they will be removed once we have eliminated the cancer. Justice will prevail."

Sullivan pinned Weldin's face on the bottom of the board. Next to that he pinned the picture of the severed head. He didn't look away from the board. Silence again for twenty-eight seconds.

"Keep up the good work, Jack." Sullivan said. Jack's eyes went wide at the sound of his own name.

"You're dismissed."

…

"Frank is pretty smart, no?" Brigid was standing next Jack in front of the new poor houses.

"I get the poor houses, but why the orphanage?" Jack looked between the two buildings.

"Children are losing families." Brigid said. She looked at the ground. "Someone needs to take them in. We do not want people becoming suspicious for not going, how you say, all the way. At least that's what Frank says."

"I kinda miss the days of bonkin a drunk on the head when you needed a test subject." Jack smiled and looked over at her without turning his face. "Poor house kinda takes the fun out of it."

"I'm sorry you don't get to have fun, Mr. Jack." Brigid smiled and lightly slapped a clipboard onto Jack's arm. He flinched then picked it up with his left hand. "This is what is needed. Imagine what will be built when we hit the market. Do I need to look at your arm?"

"Naw, it's just been sore."

"What did you do?"

"You don't want to know."

Brigid held her hand out to the poor house where kidnapping was child's play and gave him a look.

"Well if you're gunna to be that way about it." Jack said. "I had to saw a man's head off then dispose of the body. I told you, ya didn't wanna know."

Brigid shook her head.

"I can't believe the things you do."

"But you can bed up with the monster that has me doin' em."

She turned away from him. Her tone was harsh.

"What did I tell you about jealousy?"

"Shit what I don't get." Jack was looking back to the orphanage. "Is your brilliant. I mean your gawd damn brilliant. And yet you can't see it. You take one look at me and you know what I am, which doesn't bother you sometimes and sometimes it does. I made my peace with that. But you're so damn smart and you can't tell he's using your feelin's against you."

"I do see it, Jack. I am not some simple girl."

"Then why?"

"Because sometimes I need it."

"That don't make no sense."

"Why do you run between Ryan and Fontaine, like some dog?"

Jack kept his face forward but jerked his chin upwards and to the left quickly then turned around and started walking.

"You'll get your subjects, ma'am."

"Jack wait."

He stopped. She had turned to talk to him but he kept his back to her.

"Come over tonight. I have a record you will like."

Jack stood stiff for three heartbeats. Then his shoulders slumped and before he continued walking off he said on more thing.

"Gawd damn." He said. "Why can't I say no?"

….

"No trouble tonight, sir." Dean said.

"You ain't gotta call me sir, Dean." Jack said. "I ain't the kind to add insult to injury."

"What do you mean sir?"

They were standing in the fisheries where Jack and Howard had looked out to hunt drunken fishers. Dean stood at attention as Jack leaned out and looked at his beat again. Still hunting men he would no longer abduct. Simply marking them.

"I mean you got the screw job, cause your colored." Jack said. "And I'm the guy that hopped over you on the totem pole. Don't think that just cause I come from the land that invented screwing colored boys, that I like seeing colored boys get screwed."

Dean slumped and bit his lower lip. Wisps of grey attacked above his ears and he was taller and more heavily built than Jack.

"Rapture isn't like that sir."

"You don't gotta talk like that." Jack said. "I know you're from South Carolina."

Dean exhaled loudly then looked out over the fisheries.

"Look, Dean." Jack said. "I know it must have been rough learning that some lil' shit from Alabama hopped over you. I know it musta really been rough learning that prejudiced dived down with us. I just want you to know, I ain't had nothing to do with it. I wanted to wait awhile so you knew I was sincere. Man who comes up and apologizes right off the bat just sounds like an ass hole who's saying it to say it. I wanted you to know that I mean it. You're a damn fine officer and the treatment you're getting ain't right."

Dean continued to look out over the fisheries stone faced. For ten breaths that sat there. Then Dean smiled.

"Maybe if I was a white boy, I could sneak in on all these drunks and get the good intel you been getting?"

"Intel? I didn't know you served."

"Well, Alabama boy." Dean looked over at him. "I was a fighter pilot outta Tuskegee. Tuskegee, Alabama. Heard of them?"

Jack smiled. "Colored boys shooting down krauts. Hell yea I heard of y'all. Y'all were damn heroes."

"Tell that to Alabama."

Jack lost his smile.

"You see Jack. I know why I don't get promoted. I know that I'll never get above this. I have seen it in the army, I have seen it in South Carolina, and I've most certainly seen it here in Rapture. But nobody in Rapture is burning crosses, Jack. Nobody is dragging me outta my home and cutting me into pieces. I make sure that my family is safe and so do you. So I'll take it Jack. Cause this place is special and ain't nobody going to take that away from us."

Jack looked him in the eyes. Dean was nodding slightly again and again. Jack extended his hand.

"I wanna thank you for helping me and Officer Howard taking that group in the other day. You can take the night off, if ya want."

"That's all right sir." Dean said. He released Jack's hand. "I'm gunna go walk my beat. I got a home to protect."

Jack stayed and stared at nothing for seventy five breaths before Howard walked up.

"Hey Jack." Howard said. "Talk to the n****** yet?"

"Yes I did."

"Is he going to see the light?"

"Nope." Jack said. "He's gunna do his job to the best of his abilities. And because he is capable I'm going to have to kill him sooner or later."

"Well that's one less n******." Howard said.

"Don't call him that."

"Call him what?"

"He's not a damn n****** Howard." Jack looked the bigger man in the eyes. "He's a hero. And I'm the evil piece of shit monster that's gunna kill him"

Jack stormed off down to the fisheries. Howard cocked his head to the side and held his hands out bewildered.

…

Fontaine's even home temperature and pleasantly smelling home was a welcome experience after a long day. Jack had maneuvered his way here dressed casually to avoid suspicion. He found Fontaine and he found Fontaine's stash of the best bourbon. He started making himself a glass.

"Well Jackie-boy." Fontaine said. They were standing in the rich man's study. He grabbed something from the table. Jack finished his glass and looked over. He was holding a syringe with red liquid in his hand. "You ready to see the mad house?"

"The mad house?" Jack slumped down into one of the plush chairs. "What mad house?"

"Rapture, Jackie-boy. Rapture."

"You mean Rapture ain't already a mad house?"

"Not like it's about to be. Jackie-boy," Fontaine's smile went wide and he held the syringe out in front of him, "we hit the market in a month."


	5. Chapter 5

"Aren't you gunna say it?"

Jack's eyes were on his gun as he popped the cylinder revealing the chambers filled with bullets. His eyes came up to look at Howard across from him in the bathysphere without his head moving. He then looked back to the gun and rolled the cylinder over with his thumb and forefinger.

"Say what exactly Mr. Howard?" Jack asked.

"That thing you always say." Howard griped the shotgun to his chest tightly. On both sides of him were officers with Thompson sub machine guns.

Jack pushed the cylinder back into the revolver.

"What's he talking about Jack?" Dean asked. He was next to Jack with a Browning automatic rifle.

"Just a philosophy I believe in." Jack said and leaned his head back closing his eyes. Sucking in air with his chest expanding. Exhaling loudly.

"An even better question, if you ask me." Howard started.

"No one's asking." Jack said without moving.

"Well if you were, I'd say it's pretty shitty bringing us in through the front giving these bastards a big heads up before we get there." Howard rolled his shoulders back and popped his neck. "I'd also say it's pretty damn fucked up that there's only five us in this damn boat."

The two officers next to Howard both nodded their head.

"Well Mr. Howard." Jack still had his eyes closed. Wasn't moving. "Some big wig artist director, guy, he got a very fancy play going on today. That's also why we couldn't move in two days ago like you wanted Mr. Dean."

"Well what's that gotta do with us?" Howard asked.

"Can't go through the back of the theater to sneak in cause this big wig doesn't want us spooking his actors." Jack said. His face came down in a smile and he looked over at Howard. "And when we do move through the lobby we have to have small numbers so as not to excite the audience before they enter the play's artistic sanctum."

"Bullshit."

Jack looked over at Dean who was shaking his head smiling.

"The queer son of a bitch even asked not only to kill all of them but if we could kill the criminals quietly."

Every officer in the bathysphere reacted negatively. Except for Dean and Jack. They continued to smile.

The bathysphere rang out. They had arrived.

"You know how I like it boys." Jack said. He stood at the door of the bathysphere as his men lined up behind him. He took his shield off his chest and held it in his left hand at his side. "Wham bam. Thank you ma'am."

The door opened and Jack moved briskly with both of his arms coming up. His right arm held his pistol at a ninety-degree angle so that the barrel pointed at the ceiling. His left arm held out his shield. Behind him Howard and Dean moved in sync with his pace. The other officers followed with some difficulty.

As they came up the stairs they passed a couple with lips locked in passionate kissing. The woman slightly opened her eyes just as they were about to pass and yelped loud enough to scare the man into turning around. They gripped each other tightly.

"Ma'am." Howard smiled and tipped his hat towards the startled couple.

Jack pushed the door open and made his way to the entrance of Fort Frolic. His shield used as a sign for people to part as he pushed past tuxedos and dresses with feathers and frills.

"Rapture Security." He repeated over and over as he pushed by the pomp and circumstance of rapture society. He knifed through them bumping and pushing and never answering any of them. When the bodies began to get rounder and more expensively clothed in the main lobby some moved to block or question Jack. He mad his way past the ticket booth and into the lobby.

"Good sir what is this about?" A puffy man with an elaborate mustache challenged Jack who just blew by. Dean leaned in to the man.

"If you were important enough you'd already know." Dean moved quickly to catch up again with Jack and Howard. The portly man guffawed and shook his head. He rubbed back of his neck and shivered slightly. He looked up to where Andrew Ryan and the powers that be stood calmly at the top of the stairs. Ryan turned and walked towards the theater entrance. Sander Cohen stood where Ryan had stood. In his hands was a small piece of white cloth. His face was still and emotionless.

In his hands the cloth was ripped into two shredded pieces.

Jack continued to move with speed. He did not run but his pace carried him forward to his destination in a deliberate manner. He ascended the stairs two at a time with his officers behind him. Anyway in his way was pushed to the top and out of the way again. People got the clue. They were running into doors and shops to lock the door. The strip club was in sight.

"Y'all better be damn fine shots with those or I'm fucked." Jack dropped his shield. People scattered both ways. The two bouncers at the front of the club stood quickly on both sides of the double doors and their hands moved to their side. The sign at the top of the adult establishment indicated that it was closed. Jack stopped twenty feet away and stood with his body facing them from the side, the gun still pointed at the ceiling. His officers fanned out by him. The bouncer to his left nervously unbuttoned something on the back of his belt.

"Shit, son." Jack said. "You really don't wanna do that."

…..

It was over in just over twenty five seconds.

"Let's check it out!" Jack yelled he stood on top of the stage and checked each smuggler. No one was left. Howard ran past him to the passage way behind the main stage with another officer. Dean stood at the base of the stage looking around.

The walls to each side of the stage were riddled with machine gun fire. Seven of the eight bodies were grouped around the main stage. The bullet holes were puckered holes of gore at entrance and a mess of flesh at their exit. Some larger entrance holes brought on by close shotgun fire that shredded the body.

"That was easy." Dean said setting the heavy weapon down. "I blew threw five cases real quick."

"Eight on five." Jack said. He pulled a cigarette out and placed it in his mouth. "They had Thompsons and Garands. Did you see the way they shot? A weapon of war in the hand of a buncha fucking poets. These shit heads were smoking dope and writing haiku's while we were getting shot at in dinkville. They never would have thought a machine gun could actually herd people to where it was easier to kill em. Christ I should have remembered something for my ears."

"Loud son of a bitch isn't it?" Dean set the large gun down. "Damn heavy too. Barely had any training with this thing. Had similar guns on the planes though. Bigger bullet, though."

"I seen a man get his whole torso ripped to shit from one a our planes." Jack said. "They give y'all the big boys on those things. Hey Dean."

"Yea Jack?" Dean turned and looked up to the stage.

Jack lifted his bare right hand to his face and held thumbs up under his cigarette. A small flame lifted up and lit the tobacco. Dean's eyes went wide and his fingers extended out from each other at his sides.

"I'm real sorry man." Jack pointed at Dean making a gun with his thumb and index finger. "You're just not on the team."

"Your hand?" Dean said.

Jack's thumb dropped and Dean burst into flame. Screaming he started slapping at his face and head while spinning. Spinning in circles towards the door slapping at his body as he screamed unintelligible words. Three times he spins. Four. Five. Six. Seven. The other officer standing on the stage next to Jack vomited onto the floor.

Eight. Dean fell to the ground and continued to spin as he rolled. Nine. Ten.

Jack lifted his pistol and fired three shots, all-connecting with Deans flaming skull. Dean stopped moving, but his body did not stop burning.

Howard and the other officer came back through the door.

"What's all that damn racket?" Howard asked.

Jack stepped down of the stage and started walking towards the entrance.

"What'll happen to y'all's asses if you fuck the story up and force Mr. Fontaine to send me after you." Jack stood at the front of the door and looked down at the still flaming corpse of Dean. Then he looked back to the officers standing quietly in the destroyed club. "Get fire in here just in case that shit doesn't go out and get some medics or, hell I don't know, somebody to carry the bodies out of here.

"Is Mr. Fontaine going to be okay with you using that already?" Howard blurted. Jack walked out of the entrance to stand between the two dead bouncers. The broken doors closed mostly shut blocking the sights from inside to the outside viewers.

There in tuxes and dresses milled the citizens of rapture. The women cling to the men, some guarding their faces in the men's chest or shoulder, but all gave a fascinated look to the corpses that were beginning to create quite the pair of puddles. The only visible bodies were the two out front. The bouncer to Jack's left was rolled over hiding his wounds, but the one on the right had been struck in the face. The lower right half of his jaw was missing and the remaining contents of his mouth were dripping onto the floor. Everyone whispering and shaking their heads. None of them looked away too long.

Some condemned the smugglers some condemned the police and some condemned man and life in general. Jack simply stood there with his gun still in his hand breathing motionlessly.

Then the lights above flickered on and off three times and the crowd moved. They turned their backs on Jack, the two bouncers, and the carnage within the club and moved to take their seats in the theater.

Jack lifted his hand up and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. He had not inhaled any of it and half of it was now ash that he flicked off. He stared at the bright red-hot ember for ten seconds then put it in his mouth and inhaled deeply. He was now alone.

He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and exhaled smoke.

….

"Went about as well as we wanted it to go." Jack stood facing the window out into the ocean with a glass of bourbon held loosely at his side. "I got Sullivan thinking one of the smugglers magically set Dean on fire."

"How'd that go, Jackie boy?" Fontaine was laid out on a couch with a cigarette and a smile.

"He had to go." Jack said. "One of the smugglers is spliced, he just didn't know what to do with it. Tenenbaum made sure of all that. It's a helluva way to get the word out about the product."

"Those damn smugglers snuck in and stole my Fontaine Futuristics products Jackie-boy." Fontaine laughed.

"First you're reluctant to talk about it." Jack turned. "Then I magically convince you to go to Ryan, because I'm so close with the fisheries."

"Oh, and doesn't he and Sullivan just love you for that."

"Getting me higher up the food chain. And all the violence of the strip club and especially the death of an officer whip up a wild bit of press for a people desperate to know all the gory details about the blood bath in titty land."

"The secrets of which build these saps to a boil." Fontaine laughed and flicked his cigarette. "Until we finally show them it all. By the time I actually get to selling this stuff, every chump in rapture is going to be lined out the door to feel like a god."

"And you make a killing off all the little horrors that Brigid has been cooking up for you."

"That's not all she's good for Jackie-boy." Fontaine said. Jack looked out the window motionless. "I used to think French was the best tail, but I'm beginning to get a taste for kraut."

"Always with the head games Frank." Jack shook his head and took a sip of his drink. "You know that shit don't work on me."

They remained that way silently for a few breaths. Fontaine laughed and rubbed his face with both hands. He held them both open in front of his face smiling.

"I just had to see if you had any buttons, Jackie-boy." Fontaine said. "I'm beginning to think you ain't got a soul. I thought you really loved that broad. Guess I'll stop with that little game."

"Shit Frank. I do love her."

"Really Jackie-boy? Then why didn't it work?"

"Cause I ain't gunna let some stupid shit like that get on me."

Fontaine laughed harder wrapping his arms around his stomach and lifting his knees up before settling them back down. He giggled softly for a bit before resting one of his arms loosely down towards the ground and the other forearm resting across his eyes.

"Christ, Jackie-boy. You're a cold one."

"Bottom of the ocean Frank." Jack finished the rest of the glass. He closed his eyes. "Cold's all we got."


	6. Chapter 6

The newspaper he held out in front of his body had bold headlines of the great revelation of Plasmids. The word is mentioned fifty three times on the front page. Buried on page four is the story of the corrupt Rapture Security Police Officer Dean who was found to be corroborating with smugglers of contraband.

The headline was of hope that half of Rapture would have access to Plasmids within the next three months with more to follow.

"Now, we are all sons of bitches." Jack said.

He folded the paper neatly and tucked it under his armpit.

"I didn't like the guy." Howard said. Jack looked at him sideways. "Shit I hated the bastard. Still. The look on his family's face. Hearing your dead hero father is now being painted as a traitor."

"Just add it to the list." Jack turned on his heel toward the nearest bathysphere. "We gotta get down to Olympus Heights on that murder."

"Murder?" Howard said. "We ain't murder."

"That's what they'll say."

…..

"What the hell are you two doing here?" Gautreaux said. "Y'all ain't murder."

"Just missed your smell Cajun." Jack said. "Plus Contraband does have a say in this matter. The murderer talking yet?"

"Dat sonuvabitch still shaking in the guest room." Gautreaux said. "Coulda made less of a mess for the boys and me."

"Shit you ain't lyin." Howard said.

The in one corner of the room, in a circle made by all the furniture being pushed out around it, there was splatter of blood and tissue on the floor, wall, and ceiling. The blood then dragged into the kitchen area.

"That's brain matter." Jack said. "And hair. Well, with blood too. Obviously. She was dead in that corner."

"Yea dat's head gumbo." Gautreaux said. His index finger followed the path of blood. "Damdest thang. He keeps at it in the kitchen. Woman ain't got a face left. Barely got a skull."

"She was dead in the corner. Why keep beating her?" Howard said.

"I heard on the horn." Jack said. "Some excited, young sounding Officer yammering on about our suspect having bright red eyes and shaking uncontrollably."

"Yea. The guy is one helluva a freak show." Gautreaux said.

"Remember when Suchong ran that anger test and we had to clean up the mess?" Jack said.

Gautreaux rubbed his face looking at the corner then he came back around with his finger pointed at Jack.

"That's why Contraband is here." Jack said. "Red eyes from the plasmids and the shaking is cause his body is poisoning itself on adrenaline."

"Sheeeeet. Damn obvious when you think about it." Gautreaux said. He craned his neck a bit to look around the corner. "Watch your mouth though. The other boys in here are all Ryan all the way."

"Really obvious if you know about the break in at Futuristics last night." Howard said. "Damn, I didn't even think about that."

"It's really obvious when you know who lives here." Jack said. "One a Ryan's cronies."

"Him?" Gautreaux said. "He's a bookie that date's a stripper."

"Naw. She just playing at stripper." Jack said. "Gumbo girl got Ryan one a our associates that is actually singing Fontaine's name."

"So Frank got to her?" Gautreaux said.

"Hay-ell no. Bout the last thing Frank want to do is kill one of the few people that are saying his name." Jack said. "That just makes him look guilty. This blood covered mess makes Frank look outstandingly guilty right now. Whoever pulled this off is killing people to make it look like Frank's the man."

"How'd they get someone to say Frank's name?" Gautreaux said.

"Hooked his nuts up to a car battery."

"Shit." Howard said.

"Shit is right." Jack said. "And now we gotta make sure to stay really tight on the up and up. Don't worry about the witness, he's gunna commit suicide in a couple nights and that'll take care of that nice and quiet."

"Shit, how do I never hear about all this?" Gautreaux said.

"Cause you ain't in Contraband Cajun." Jack said. "Can't do any big help in Homicide."

"Well I can show you something. Kinda the icing on this here cake of fucked up." Gautreaux said. He gave the come this way sign with his hand. The kitchen was more blood across the counter and table. The icebox was not covered in blood. It had the smears of being swiped.

Jack stopped in front of the Icebox and opened his mouth wide.

On the outside of the door was a capital B and K with a wasp nailed in between them.

"What is that written in?" Howard said.

"That would be honey." Gautreaux said. He looked back at Jack. "What's wrong with you?"

"That's a weird looking bee." Howard leaned in. "Or is it some sorta red wasp?"

"Seriously, Alabama." Gautreaux said. "What's with the stare?"

Jack stepped forward and held his finger forward right in front of the red and yellowish bee.

"Now I know," Jack said, "that I gotta be one of the few people that know what that is."

…

"I wanna go home." George said. He was crying and curled into the fetal position in the corner of his cell. His eyes were squeezed shut and his hands were tightly squeezed between his thighs. Gripping at his crotch. "Oh god. I wanna go home."

This was the fourteenth hour he'd been in this position since they had left him. When they had brought him in blood had been dripping down from the crotch of his pants, which had still been steaming. The bleeding had stopped twelve hours ago. He had run out of tears nine hours ago.

When he urinated six hours ago he had passed out for forty-five minutes before waking up and dry heaving into another session of sobbing and repeating the same thing over and over.

"Momma please." George said. "I wanna go home."

For the first time since he had been dropped in his cell the slit in the door opened in the middle. George's eyes went wide.

"Fontaine!" George said. "Fontaine! Fontaine! That's what you want! Fontaine! It's Fontaine!" His voice was hoarse and weak.

He stopped yelling when the bare arm came through the slit. He stared at it silently as it just stayed there, not dropping or signaling anything. It just stayed there for a minute.

Then the arm turned yellowish green, like a wave of color spread over it. Next was a red that bubbled across the skin like blisters.

George started to hyperventilate.

The blisters on the arm were beginning to boil. They then boiled into forms of green and red life that burst out of the arm and started crawling and flying. The insects flew outward into the cell and more blisters formed behind them making more flying blurs of red and green.

The flying pieces of flesh found George and as he screamed, "Momma! Momma! Momma!" the bees of flesh flew down his throat and stung there along with stinging him over his eyes and around his neck.

Even as George was being stung to death he never moved and only stopped screaming for his mother when his throat swelled shut.


	7. Chapter 7

Gautreaux was leaning over the body when Jack walked up behind him. Gautreaux looked up briefly and nodded before tracing the marks along the face with his finger.

"You got long cuts moving along the face at various angles." Gautreaux said. "Always a slow single cut. Gotta be somethin' sharp."

"Since we got sutures piecing everything together I'm thinking medical background." Jack said. "That means surgical tools."

"We dat makes sense." Gautreaux said. "But are you sure a doctor could do this?"

"Could be an animal doctor." Jack said. "But I don't think so."

"Well it looks like we got another psycho murderer." Gautreaux said. "Her nose and mouth. All her dam skin seems to be outta place."

Jack looked over his shoulder towards the ground. The revolver was four feet from where he was standing. He then looked to the wall where blood splattered starting above his eye level and trailed downward on the wall where it pooled together with the back of her head and framed and her naked form.

"Gun shot wound through the mouth?" Jack said. Gautreaux nodded. "Kinda odd for an execution. Not unheard of down of the fisheries, but odd."

"Whatcha sayin?"

"She was standing up." Jack pointed to the blood on the wall. "Blood shot out of her head when she did that and she was standing when that happened. And if I was gunna go to work on her face like that I would need her tied down or out of it while I did it. She'd have to be still for that kinda shit. But I don't see any marks or signs of struggle. This gal gotta husband, boyfriend?"

"Naw."

"This wasn't murder, Cajun." Jack said. "This a suicide."

"How you figure that?"

"The face is misleading. Looks like one a the freak shows we been seein, but the face is the reason." Jack said. "She got big or little needle marks on her arm?"

Gautreaux turned the girl's arm over.

"Yeah, those ain't drug holes, that's plasmids." Jack said. "Girl hooked herself up with a shitty surgeon trying to fix what all that splicing did to her good looks."

Gautreaux stood up. "Shit. Ya think?"

"She ain't rich enough from the looks of this place and no one to help her out with the cost of Steinman's work." Jack rubbed his hand across his face. "She hooked up with a cheap alternative and we she found out the results she took herself outta the ball game."

"Dam."

"Yeah." Jack held his hand to his mouth and yawned. Put the palms of both his hands in his eye and breathed in deep. Big exhale.

"Youz feelin' alright Alabama?" Gautreaux said.

"You've read the papers." Jack said. "Murder and Rape went from nonexistent to an overnight epidemic. Plus I still gotta help Sullivan out with his Fontaine obsession on top of running interferernce for Frank. I'm working up in the rich districts cause high society wants a bona fide hero on the case every time a purse gets snatched. Honestly I miss the fucking fisheries."

"Rough life." Gautreaux said. "You think these murders is another round of the head sickness like when we first got down here?"

"Naw." Jack said. "People keeping journals and entertaining themselves took care of those problems. All the problems that are just now seeping through all gotta come from the plasmids."

"Even things like this?" Gautreaux said.

Jack looked down to the face. His eyes came across the pale form. The Porcelain skin gained from never being in the sun seeming even more white set against he dark black blood.

"I'll head over to Dr. Steinman's office after tonight." Jack said.

"What for?"

"See if he knows any other person that might have the know how to do something like this." Jack said. "Anyone who might try to pass themselves off as a face surgeon like him."

"Least it's ain't another psycho to catch." Gauteaux said. "We catch all the murderers pretty quick like, though."

"Not Bee Keeper." Jack said.

"I still think it's Bee King"

"You can be a queen bee but not a king bee." Jack said. "Plus he don't see himself as the leader, he just sees himself as the protector of the hive."

"What hive?" Gautreaux said.

"You, me." Jack said. He held his arms out wide. "All of this. Rapture."

….

"Dr. Lamb gave me strength." Rupert said. He kneeled in his room in front of a picture of the face of Jesus Christ. "When I got out of prison I didn't think anyone could console me. But then Dr. Lamb came. And she taught me about justice and peace. Justice and peace. Justice and peace."

Rupert clasped his hands in front of his face and rocked back and forth mumbling the words to "Hail Mary" many times over. Directly behind him five feet away hung the body of Sam Caldwell who was a mass of drooping rotting flesh. Behind him to his left was Rebecca Fines who's face had puffed out with the rest of her body in the corner. Behind him to his right was Niles Tuck who had burst across his stomach and was currently spilled out onto the floor.

Rupert unclasped his hands and looked back to the picture.

"I understood justice and harmony." Rupert said. "I understood. I understood. I understood! But I didn't know, until you. Until you told me what to do I didn't know what to do about it. About anything. You told me. You told me who had to be taken. Who had to be removed."

Arranged around the bodies behind him were candles. Scratched onto the walls were misquoted bible verses. Nailed into the ceiling was a picture of the psychiatrist Sofia Lamb with circles of blood drawn around it by fingers. Next to where he was praying was a tray covered in poorly kept knives.

"Please dear lord." Rupert said. "Speak to me again. Tell me what to do."

….

"We gotta go in to check on a body?" Howard said. "I thought we were more special than that."

"It's not a confirmed body, it's just a smell." Jack said. "Could be a crate that went missing outta the fisheries. Plus we're pretty much here. You rather be trading shots with some spliced up moron?

"A crate of fishes. In the residential district of the section?" Howard said.

"I heard of people starting to steal the rivets in the tunnels." Jack said. "Actually trying to sell parts of Rapture for cash. When People get desperate they'll steal just about anythin'."

"Well here's the damn smell. Jesus Christ." Howard said.

"That ain't fish neither, here's the door." Jack put his hand towards the door handle but stopped. He put his ear to the door. He looked back at Howard and drew his pistol as Howard took a step back and pointed his weapon towards the door.

Jack slammed the back of his hand into the door.

"Rapture Security. Open up the door and keep your hands in sight." Jack said. They waited in silence for two breaths. "Rapture Security. If you do not let us in we gunna come in there on our own. I sure as shit ain't gunna be nice about it either!"

"Heathen hick!" A voice from behind the door. "Enter and feel the wrath of the Lord our savior! Enter and feel the cold hand of retribution!" The voice continued to yell.

"Cold hand." Howard said.

"Yep. Ice plasmid." Jack said. "I guess we will be trading metal with a spliced shit after all. I'm gunna hit the button in the middle of him talkin'"

"Know that you are the sin of a sinful world! Know that you are the betrayer! Know that you defile the kingdom of the lord! Know that…"

Jack hit the button and the door shot up into the wall. A thin shirtless man with a full brown reddish beard came forward and threw both of his hands forward. Ice attempted to form on both the officers. Howard dropped his gun and waved hands of fire in circles around himself and Jack.

Jack ignored the ice that immediately grew on his arm and face on the side that wasn't next to Howard. He held his gun up and the ice moved up his arm and neck in seconds. Right before it fully covered the right side of his face he fired the gun. After it discharged ice covered over his hand before it finally stopped engulfing Jack.

The bearded man's head had jerked backwards. He fell rag doll to the floor with both fore arms still blue with ice. When he hit the ground the blood pooled briefly before cold caught up with it and froze him to the floor with his own blood.

Jack fell forward on a knee. The Majority of his upper right torso and arm were covered in ice. His right arm was stuck pointing forward straight out in front of him. He lifted a shaking left hand.

"Stop." Howard said. He kneeled down in front of Jack. "This is delicate shit. Stay still."

Jack's eye's were wide and his teeth were clenched as he breathed through them. He knelt shaking as Howard put fire hands on him and slowly melted away the cold that covered Jack.

"My fucking hand." Jack said.

"Hands and feet are your most likely place to get frost bite." Howard said.

"Princeton teach you that?"

"Yes and no." Howard said. "I did charity work in church's during the winter when I was in college. Got to see the homeless up close and personal who had been left to sleep outside. One a the reason's I came here."

"Well that ought a teach you a lesson." Jack said.

"What's that?"

"Don't do charity." Jack said. The two men chuckled together. When Jack could move his arm and hand again he brought it to his face. He smiled big and started to laugh out right. The two men shared thirty two seconds of laughter in a room with four dead bodies.

"Jesus look at this place." Jack said.

"Why they hanging up like that?" Howard said.

"Trophies. Shit look at the ceiling."

"Lamb. What she got to do with this?"

"The religious types always love that bitch. I'm gunna call medical. I'm pretty sure my arms a bit fucked up."

"Can you believe this?" Howard said. "All this shit in this room and he's got Jesus on the wall. I can't believe that."

"Don't touch nothin'." Jack said. "Shit, Dumas? This is Wilson. I need medical down in the residential area of the fisheries. Got hit with an ice shot. Multiple bodies at the scene, including the perp. What was this damn room number Howard? My damn head is killing me."

"I'm sorry boss." Howard looked back at Jack. His hand reached forward and pulled the picture of Jesus Christ off the wall. He did not look back at the wall. "I can't leave this hanging up in a room like this."

Jack cocked his head to the side. Where the picture had been was a hole. Jack's heart race increased. A hand shot out of the hole as Howard turned around to face it.

"Howard!"

….

"I really think you should accept some medication Mr. Wilson."

"Steinman. Shut up." Jack said.

"Mr. Wilson I understand your discomfort." Steinman said. "There's no reason to get cross."

"There's a lot of reasons to get cross." Jack said. He held up his hand to his face and stared at where the tips of his right hand's ring and pinkie finger had used to be. "Certain portions of my skin and muscle having to be cut off will get a boy mighty cross. This exam room, this where you scout your girls Steinman?"

"Mr. Wilson this is a preliminary room to meet prospective clients for body enhancement." Steinman said. "And I thought we agreed not to talk about that."

"What we're gunna talk about is my friend Howard." Jack said. "And how you're gunna put all your god damn talent and energy into making his face exactly the way it was."

"Mr. Wilson, those bee's didn't just sting. They cut." Steinman said. "They cut a lot. He avoided major nerve damage but some of the tissue in that face is shredded. It could be fixable if he had a more sizeable account in Rapture. But there is simply no way a guard makes enough to afford these types of operations."

"Now you see, that's where you're wrong." Jack said. "Cause after all the girls I've had to bring to satisfy your artistic endeavors and after all the bodies I've brought out of here, you're gunna look after my friend."

"An empty threat, Mr. Wilson." Steinman said. "Do you think Ryan is going to cast off the man who is single handedly winning the battle against the plasmid disfigurements over some riff raff you brought in for my, 'experiments.'"

"Steinman. I want you to really pay attention." Jack said. He positioned his body in front of Steinman and put his hand on his pistol in it's holster.

"Mr. Wilson we both know that you're not going to…"

Jack's hand shot out and grabbed Steinman by the throat and pushed him up against the wall. Steinman opened his mouth to gasp and Jack shoved the barrel of his gun into his mouth. Steinman went statue still. Jack's left hand dropped from Steinman's neck and moved down.

"You see Steinman." Jack said. "I used to just have your balls metaphorically speakin'. But right now?"

Steinman's body jerked and grabbed helplessly at Jack's forearm.

"Right now, I actually got your balls. I've been cleanin' up for you and all the rest of high society that wants to pretend they ain't as rat shit crazy as all the murderers running around in Fontaine's homes and it is beginning to get right on my damn nerves. And now that big brain of yours is thinking how you're gunna go run to Ryan and tell him all about this so you can see me get strung up. Cause you think no one is gunna care about all the "riff raff" I been bringing in here for your sick shit just so I can have a lil over you. Well now I got a lot over you. I just got back from a crime scene with a girl in the middle class housing. Face looked like a goddam jigsaw puzzle. Just like all the others you get through. Now I told you to control it didn't, buddy? Told you not to get anyone that might be important. That girl who's face you rearranged? She was one of Augustus Sinclair's sweet hearts."

Steinman's eyes went wider. His face became pale. His heart race increased.

"There we go, boy. Now we got an understanding of each other. Your balls, your ass, your whole sick existence is in my pocket. And I'm telling you right now. Stein. Man. If that corn fed Nebraskan doesn't look exactly the way he looked when he woke up this morning, I'm gunna find you and rip these lil' peanuts off and shove em' down your goddam yankee throat, you vile piece of shit."

Jack pulled his gun out and let go of Steinman. The man crumpled to the floor in front of Jack. He was breathing hard. Tears rolled down his face.

"Oh god." Steinman said. "Sinclair! Oh god."

"Sinclair's gunna get some slant eyed shit surgeon whom I'm gunna set up." Jack said. He walked to the door. "Don't start thinkin' I don't know how to do my damn job.


	8. Chapter 8

"Look Charlie." Jack said. "I got a lot on my mind right now. All sorts of problems that don't involve you. So why don't you just say the magic words and let us go about our day. Guns is serious shit, now. Even just carrying the ammo ain't gunna look good Charlie. I ain't gunna lie about that. But as soon as you start saying those special names, the sooner I can get you out of that chair and you can start serving your time. I'll put in a word for you. Honesty is a virtue in Rapture. And we're all about rewarding virtue in these parts. So, come on. Just say what we need to hear. Come on, Charlie."

Charlie Peprah was tied to the chair. In his life before Rapture he had been American. In his life before an hour ago he had been handsome. Both eyes wore swollen. His left was completely shut. Several of his teeth laid on the ground between his feet which were tied to the chair. His arms bound behind his back.

"I just wanted food." Charlie said. "For the neighborhood. Ryan left us in the shit. And working for the only people who can help you, are traitors. I was only trying to do what was right for the community."

"I don't doubt that." Jack said. "But doin the right thaig is prolly gunna get you killed these days. Now we all know the name you're about to say. Don't worry you ain't the first to say it. We all know what it is. All you gotta do, is just say those magic words give us a lil bit a information and we're in business."

Charlie hung his head down and took a few deep breaths. He inhaled deeply and looked up into towards Jack His one good eye searching out beneath a world of swollen pain.

"I ain't working for Fontaine." Charlie said. "He's a good man. He's got nothing to do with it."

"Christ Charlie." Jack said. "You're a lil late in the game for all that. Sullivan and the rest of us all know it's Fontaine. Just we need your help gettin a lil of what's called probable cause. You see you can't arrest Rapture's plasmid supplier on the word of a buncha smugglin shits, like yourself. You gotta catch him with his hand in the cookie jar. Now we been hearing rumor of army. Rumor of rebellion. Look at me Charlie. Look at me. Pullin in some cigars and whiskey from top side is one thing. But the world is about to get a whole lot wilder if y'all start stock piling weapons and getting ideas. Now I know there's guns around here. People gunna be using all that to get a whole mess of people killed. All I need you to do, all Rapture needs you to do, is just point the way. Just point the way and we can all avoid a big mess."

Charlie sagged his head again and sobbed. He sucked in air deeply through his nose and moaned. He looked back up at Jack.

"There ain't no rebellion." Charlie said. "I'm telling the truth."

Jack dug the back of his hand into his right eye socket and looked to the side exhaling deeply. He looked back at his fellow officers and held his hands up. He looked back at Charlie.

"Well, boys we'll just say he said it was Fontaine, cause it was Fontaine, and that he didn't know where he got the ammo from." Jack said.

Charlie was crying. Looking at Jack.

"No." Charlie said. "It ain't like that. I ain't lying."

Jack took his pistol out of it's holster and popped out the cylinder, and looked at it before popping it back in.

"I swear." Charlie said. "I ain't lying."

"Charlie," Jack said, "you know what the most common lie is?"

"Wait. Just wait. No. Stop"

Jack shot Charlie in the forehead and the man slumped back. The chair became unbalanced and the body and chair tied together fell sideways.

"There's an air lock around here, right?" Jack said.

"Uh." A guard behind him with a shotgun rubbed his chin. "Yea, boss. I think. There's one just down the ways. Shit my ears."

"Christ I hadn't been down to the fisheries in so long." Jack said. "You'd think I'd of never worked here. Let's throw him out to ocean. Coroner is too damn busy with all the mayhem going around that he doesn't need us unloading another body on him. And from now on wear your damn ear plugs. Rapture is an enclosed space you'll go deaf in two weeks. Y'all got this?"

"Sure thing boss." The guard said. "Like I said just down the ways."

"Aight." Jack said. "I'm gunna head to medical and check up on a buddy."

"How is Howard?" The other guard said.

"Shit I forgot you two played together." Jack said from the doorway. "Last surgery was a couple days ago. Light scares all over his face but he still looks better than y'alls sad faces."

They laughed and lifted the body between them and carried it smiling to the door as Jack made sure it stayed open for them.

"Say, what you were saying in there." The guard holding the feet said. "What is the most common lie?"

"I'm telling the truth." Jack said.

He walked in the opposite direction of Charlie being carried out to the ocean.

…..

"I would use the word complete failure, Frank." Jack said.

"Jackie-boy you can't just know what you are doing." Fontaine said. He was behind his desk. "You have to see what the other guy is going to do three steps ahead. If they're not going to give me up in the current interrogation, then Sullivan will step it up a bit. He'll make Ryan an even bigger enemy of the people with torture."

"Well shit Frank." Jack said. "I'm too busy being Rapture's brightest back stabber to keep up with the grand scheme. But someone's gotta crack sooner or later. And they already been hooking fellas up to batteries by their pecker. What could be worse than that?"

"Jackie-boy." Frank said. "With the things you pulled on half the people you pulled it on. There's nothing Sullivan can do that's going to put the fear in them the way you can."

Jack turned away and walked to the bar. His face frowned and then he quickly sucked in air through his teeth and rubbed the stitches on the side of his face. The plasmids had opened the hole on his face wider. The stitches were tight. He put ice and bourbon in both glasses.

"Why don't you have Steinman look at that?" Fontaine said. "With the way you got him in your pocket you should get it for free."

"I go under that man's knife and I ain't waking up Frank." Jack said.

Fontaine laughed and Jack returned handing one glass to Fontaine and holding the other up to his cut face.

"So you got him in your pocket that way." Fontaine said. "Well maybe you can get the kraut to ease your pain."

"Ever since you stopped toyin with her she been a bit moody." Jack said. "Apparently tellin a woman no is a good idea. And I learn this after all these years of, yes. Plus I think the ice is starting to melt. This current work is really starting to mess with her noodle."

"She going to be able to do what she needs to do?" Fontaine said.

"Shit Frank she's a kraut." Jack said. "They always get the job done. Just she ain't happy about it and I'm having to stick to good ole fashioned Kentucky pain medicine."

Jack raised the glass in a mock cheer that Fontaine returned with a smile. Fontaine took a sip but Jack swallowed the thing whole. He talked while he walked back to the bar.

"I mean, shit Frank. She's about got the job done. I wouldn't believe it I hadn't seen it myself, but the damn thing is working. But you gotta understand. She's still a woman. The kraut in her will do it and her overall toughness will get her through. But still Frank. It's lil girls. You gotta give her some slack."


	9. Chapter 8 part two

"You know I was just talking about you." Jack said. He inhaled sharply through his teeth. Brigid Tenenbaum had removed a needle from his swollen eyelid. It was filled with a liquid that was clear but with a yellow tint.

"This should be all of it." Brigid said. She put the syringe down on the table. Then crossed her arms over her crossed legs and looked up at Jack as he stood rubbing his eye.

"Why's it gotta fill up with liquid there?"

"The plasmids have strange reactions to your body. It is price you pay for power. What have you been doing with this power I have given you?"

Jack pulled his hand away and looked at the study of Brigid Tenenbaum. Any where there was a flat surface was either covered by book or paper. In between those there was usually glass tubes or syringes. He saw in the corner of her ceiling high bookshelves a knee-high stack of dirty dishes surrounded by drinking glasses and the occasional beaker with the remnants of coffee.

"Weyll. I ran down to the fisheries, all dressed up, to retrieve some surplus guns. Thompsons and trench guns, mostly from The War and Koh-Ray-Uh. Theeen, I went arrested some poor nothing for running ammo. Tried to get him to turn in Frank so we can get Ryan all paranoid, I don't know. Didn't work. Shot the guy in the head. Went saw Howard. He's all fucked up. Says he's seeing ghosts and shit. Went saw Frank. He's doing good, worried a bit about you. When I told him about, you know, all this. Told him you were fine. Cause you're fine, right? I, mean. You're fine right?"

"I've been working on these children." Brigid said. She rested her face on her hand, which rested on her knee. She looked at Jack with her head tilted sideways. "It is taxing. When I was in the camps, I ran many experiments. I ran them on all people. Old. Youths. Tall. Black haired. Blonde. Skinny. Well, there weren't any fat ones at the camps. My ability to insulate science from humanity gave me great advantages. Allowed my survival. But these girls. It must always be girls. And they are so trusting. They are so vulnerable. They are so…"

Jack held his open hands out at his sides.

"Cute?"

"Little." Brigid said. "They are very little."

"Well. Okay."

"And I have done it. I have successfully combined human form with the slug host to produce a symbiotic relationship that yields more adam."

"How does it do that?"

"Would you understand if I explained?"

"Well I get the basics. You stick the slug in the girl how do you get the adam out of them after that?"

"Their waste."

"You mean their piss and what not?"

"No they regurgitate the adam."

"You farm little girls vomit?"

Brigid close her eyes for four heartbeats then opened them to Jack. Jack to an uncertain step backwards and held his thumb back over his shoulder.

"So I should go?"

"Actually no." Brigid stood up. She walked over to one of the many tables covered in mess. "I have two requests."

"Well." Jack said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. "Shit."

"There is a need for supplies."

"Dammit woman. I swear if you say what I think you're gunna say. I'm. I'm just not gunna take it all that well." He pulled one out and stuck it in his mouth not lighting it.

"We need suits."

"Sonuvabitch!"

"Jack. This is not my fault."

"That's my free time you're cutting into there. You know, it ain't like I get much of it neither. Then I got get help to help me go look around the sewers. Rapture's a helluva lot bigger than you think."

"Suchong keeps ruining test subjects."

"What are you even doing with those things?"

"We need more. We will need many more suits, Jack. There were thousands of diving suits for the builders. They can't just have disappeared."

"No, dammit. But in classic Rapture fashion they got buried and forgotten and now I gotta go dig the damn things up."

"So you'll do it?"

"Yes, dammit. I just hope we find a bigger stockpile of the damn things." Jack rubbed his head and started toward the door. "I'll get on it though. Might take a while so tell the dink to make whatever y'all got left last."

"Jack wait. The other request."

"Shit, shit, shit." Jack said. He put the heels of his hands into the socket of his eyes. "Whatcha need?"

Brigid turned around and held up a glass beaker.

"Sample."

Jack dropped his hand to his side and after awhile opened his eyes.

"You need me to go out and get a slug?"

"No." Brigid said. "I need a sample of semen."

"Semen?"

"Yes, semen."

Jack's head went back and he scratched he ran his hand through his hair.

"Semen?"

"Yes, Jack. The liquid that…"

"I know what it is dammit. How am I supposed to get you that."

Brigid held the bottle out to her side and looked at Jack with her bro furrowed and her mouth open.

"You need my semen?" The cigarette fell out of his mouth and rolled across the floor.

"Where else would I ask you to get it?"

"What? You need my? Why?"

"I am running experiments." Brigid said. Her free hand went to her hips. She still held her glass in front of her.

"What could that possibly be used for?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because it's odd. In a world of odd shit, this still manages to stand out."

Brigid reached her hand up and pinched her brow.

"I'm having to learn fertilization of the female egg for a project. I'm having to learn how to change the child to fit specification before it is put in the womb. To test on a fertilized egg I need a fertilized egg. To get fertilized egg I need semen."

"Okay," Jack held a hand out in front of him that was pointing. "In all honesty I didn't get a lot of that. But that don't mean you gotta be mean about it. Who's kid are you talking about?"

"Can you help me or not? I'd rather not go around asking strangers."

"How am I supposed to just get that to you?"

"There is bathroom." Brigid said. She pointed at it. She looked at him.

"Now?"

"Yes, now. I am busy or did you not notice?"

"How am I suppose to?"

"I need to show you this? Go do what boys love to do so much. Careful you don't go blind."

"Oh we're telling jokes now? I'm sorry if I'm not just ready to hand over a sample, doc. In case you didn't notice I'm in a lot of stress right now. I can't really get the feeling, right now."

Brigid looked up to the ceiling and exhaled loudly. She walked behind Jack who continued to face the wall.

"I mean I am running guns right now, woman. Pretty much arming a small army. Not just guns neither. Cheap shitty plasmids for cheap shitty fisherman goons."

Brigid closed the door to Jack's back right shoulder. She locked the door. He turned around and followed her as he talked.

"And I mean things are gettin odd on the Ryan's side of the equation. Sullivan used to be this squared away nit picky guy. Now he's a mess over all this Fontaine shit that's about to go down. Ryan is too busy humping his way through every actress and singer we got down here. Why are you locking the doors?"

"Privacy." Brigid said. She reached up to the top button on her shirt.

"Um. Well on top of that I got this scar on my face and my eye keeps turning into a bubble. It's rather disgusting."

Brigid unbuttoned the last button on her shirt and dropped it to the floor. She was bare to the waist as she walked towards Jack. Jack's eyes were on her chest and his mouth hung slightly open.

"You'd be a lot warmer if you wore something under that shirt."

"It's been awhile hasn't it Jack? It's been a long winter."

"How. How." Jack said. Brigid reached up and put her arms around his neck. His eyes came up to hers. "How do you know it's winter?"

….

"Why would you put those in the ice box?" Jack said.

"To preserve." Brigid said. She was wearing only his pants with the belt pulled very tight. She looked back at Jack who was lying on the floor only in his underwear. He had finally lit his cigarette. "Two samples."

"Momma always said I was an overachiever."

"Did she now?" Brigid shut the ice box door and walked back to sit in her chair and lean forward with her face in her hands. "What was your mother like?"

"Tough woman. Raised me by herself." Jack said. "Ain't like my dad ran out or nothing. Got a job working at Sloss Furnace when I wasn't yet born. Died in a accident. Momma moved down south from Birmingham remarried a drunk shit head and raised me there."

"I thought she raised you by herself?"

"Well, she had a couple kids with the new guy. He was a drinker, but not all bad. Mard Gras was fun. Just if you gotta choose between your own kids and one left over from some other fella, it ain't really a choice."

Brigid looked to the scar on his face and how it seemed to make a never ending smirk from his lip. Then she looked back to his eyes as he stared at a cigarette.

"Is that actually true?"

"Yea actually. You're one a the few people who got the God's honest outta me." Jack said. "Brigid?"

"Yes Jack?"

"You ain't gunna talk about your past are you?"

Brigid leaned back and looked at her hands folded in her lap over the baggy unfitting pants. She stayed that way and Jack put the cigarette back to his face and exhaled smoke.

"That's okay. I'm used to this bein a one way street. Can you tell me what all this was for?"

"I do want to." Brigid said. "But this is not something I can share."

"Well can you at least tell me what all the diving suits are for?"

Brigid smiled and looked back to the table behind her.

"Well, I can tell you that." She reached back. She brought her hand around and Jack looked up to see her smiling and holding an empty beaker. "But you will have to earn it."

….

Deep below there was a holding area. Here was a room sealed off since Raptures completion. It was one of many such rooms.

Before this room had been busy. It had constantly been filled with the best and brightest welders and engineers who used its airlock to go out into the ocean and build a city in the sea. A basketball court could easily fit into the central room. Attached to this room were many sub sections for living quarters, a sub section for utilities, and a sub section to warehouse the many suits used by the workers.

Here hundreds of suits had been stored in this a relatively small post. When Rapture had been completed there had been such an abundance of suits for the workers of the city that many of the construction suits had been left behind in this area that had been forgotten by Rapture.

It had not been busy for a long time.

But now it was busy, with thousands and thousands of occupants.

In the central section many of the suits had been assembled. They had been arranged standing in a circle fours rows deep around a center. They filled the room up. This room constantly buzzed and moved.

Throughout the suits, in their face places and arms and legs, there was constant movement. It seemed to ripple over every thing in the room. There the yellow and the red and the green masses moved over everything.

Large bags of sugar water hung from each corner of the room and randomly from the ceiling. At the floor of each corner and throughout the suits were tall wooden boxes with stacked slits that were covered in the movement and the buzzing.

At the very center surrounded by the suits was a man sitting with his legs crossed. Over his whole form the bees crawled and covered him. His eyelids and his lower lip drooped down and boils grew in cluster from his neck across his shoulders. He sat with his eyes open staring out into the suits as each one bore a ghostly face.

And each ghost in each suit begged of him endlessly.

"Rapture." They said. "You must protect Rapture."


End file.
